


Natural obligations

by cantadora_09



Category: Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: F/M, Geth, PWP, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26969353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantadora_09/pseuds/cantadora_09
Summary: Dracula sadistically mocks Agatha, but she is forced to endure it since her life and freedom are at stake.
Relationships: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing
Comments: 14
Kudos: 48





	Natural obligations

Nuns always have a lot of work. This is part of obedience and the normal routine of the monastery, apart from the fact that physical labor helps to focus and pacify the spirit.

Agatha never particularly liked physical labor. She had enough lessons in the laboratory, after which on some days in the evening she was completely exhausted. Still, rules are rules, and at least three times a week she had to help in the kitchen, fetch water, or weed beet beds.

Perhaps that is why a long sleep on a wide and soft, albeit unfamiliar bed seemed to her more a blessing than a cause for alarm.

Until once again slipping out of the delightful slumber, Agatha remembered that there were no such beds in the monastery, and in spacious rooms with walls of rough stone, like the one in which the bed was, the sisters kept cheese.

Agatha sat up jerkily in bed and stared in front of her.

‘Can't sleep?’ Sharply turning her head, she almost buried her nose in the one sitting next to her.

‘What are you doing here?’ Agatha asked from dark, attentive eyes studying her. She tried to concentrate, but consciousness seemed to... splash inside her head, unyielding and nimble, like a slippery fish.

‘I’m here in some way at home,’ Dracula replied calmly. ‘What do you remember?’ he said curiously.

Agatha frowned.

‘The monastery. And prayer. You appeared during a common prayer. I remember Jonathan... Mina... Mina let him in. And the wolves. Yes, I remember wolves.’ She paused, not entirely sure that she had correctly reconstructed the events – or their sequence. ‘And then you said... You promised that I…’

She looked up at him thoughtfully.

‘You took me out of there,’ she stated grimly. ‘It seemed to you not enough to drink me without a trace, and you took me…’

‘...so to speak, in the flesh,’ Dracula nodded in agreement. ‘Don't you like it here?’ He added, sweeping around the room with a gesture.

She didn't answer. Glancing around again, she looked at Dracula. He was sitting so close that she could see the fine lines on his pale face.

‘What do you want?’ Agatha asked.

Dracula shrugged vaguely.

‘Talk.’

...

The bed was incredibly comfortable after all. Over the years she lived in the monastery, Agatha managed to forget about such luxury. She slept comfortably as if plunged into a thick sea of clouds – and she dreamed of clouds. Huge, white, embracing with fluffy waves. Occasionally unfamiliar shadows flickered behind them and voices were heard. But more often in the middle of a dream, Dracula suddenly appeared, and the desire to sleep went somewhere in the background. This was not so much surprising as it raised questions, as well as the fact that, no matter how hard she tried, Agatha could not remember to see at least once where he actually came from.

‘Why do I never see you walk through the door?’ she once asked the Count. ‘I think you are giving me some herbs… Maybe opiates,’ she suggested. ‘But I’m not sleeping anymore when you come. Or rather…’ she paused, feeling that she was confused. Looking at Dracula, she added angrily: ‘You don’t turn into a fog, in fact.’

Dracula smiled at her with that tinge of secular courtesy, which, as she had time to learn, meant that she should not wait for an answer, and Agatha, with a sigh, spoke of something else.

In this, however, there was nothing new – many times Agatha tried, directly or by hints, to find out from him where she was, what was happening, and what she should expect from him – all in vain. Dracula did not react at all, or he gave out something mocking – so much that it became clear that the topic touched upon by Agatha was taboo.

And, it seems, – the only one.

On the first evening after her... awakening, Dracula said he wanted to talk – and they talked. A lot – about books, music, about people and their habits, about what happened in the world before and what is happening now. They gossiped like seasoned gossips and conducted scientific debates, compared impressions of what they read, and discussed how life had changed.

Agatha was never silent, and conversations, moreover, helped her to organize her thoughts and understand herself better. If she lacked something in the monastery, then the interlocutor who could hear, answer, challenge her judgment, or confirm it.

The sisters were not her helpers here – they were kind and caring, treating each other... well, treating each other like sisters, they preferred prayers to disputes and discussions – even if it was about Holy Scripture. So Agatha was desperately bored with them.

Dracula was a demanding and stubborn conversationalist. Smart, attentive, keen, and passionate. He never interrupted and listened to the end of everything she said, thoughtfully studying, looking at it for a long time – and returning it back, sometimes deployed in a completely different angle, and it was... yes, it was exciting, she admitted.

On his next visit, Agatha woke up from a gaze.

Sighing, she turned onto her back.

‘How much time has passed? Since you brought me here.’

‘Three and a half weeks.’

Agatha nodded.

‘Aren't you afraid to make me getting sick of you?’ she asked in a surge of unexpected insolence.

She asked – and immediately regretted it. But the anger did not fall on her, as did the resentment and anger. He laughed.

‘Agatha,’ he said, leaning over and looking into her eyes. ‘How... predictable? you are. How naive in your fierce intransigence. You are so confident in yourself – and in the fact that this intransigence protects you from the manifestations of ‘sinful weakness’. Such as, for example, the ability to feel something for me besides... um... righteous anger. Your tenacity and resilience are truly amazing.’ He paused, smiling. ‘But if I wanted, do not hesitate... yes, if I wanted, I would make you... scream.’

‘I don’t doubt that,’ Agatha said grumpily. She sat up and shifted, making herself comfortable. The pillows spread to the sides and flattened, becoming thin and hard. ‘On the contrary, I find it strange that you took so long...’ she trailed off, choosing the word, ‘for so long delayed with this.’

She bent down to straighten a naughty pillow, and a lock of hair fell over her eyes. Removing them, Agatha looked at Dracula.

He stared at her intently and steadily.

‘Not in that sense.’

The words sounded soft, but something in them made her flinch and – for some reason – to touch the blanket with which Agatha was covered to the waist.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked in a secular tone.

Dracula leaned back, leaning against the low table by the bed. On the table was a glass filled to the brim with wine. Agatha didn’t remember this table had been here before. However, she was not too interested in the furnishings of the room.

‘Have you forgotten in your monastery why they scream in bed?’

‘We don't have much time in our monastery for idle reflections,’ snapped Agatha. ‘Are you serious?’ she did not believe.

‘Quite serious,’ he smiled.

Agatha was silent for a while.

‘Do you really think...’

‘I don’t think so, Agatha, I’m sure.’

She sat for a minute in confusion.

Anger came to the rescue.

‘You will never be able to!’

‘Let's check it?’

What is wrong in this room, Agatha thought. A window would be... Or two. She shifted.

‘Not worth it. I do not participate in disputes about... axioms.’

Now he smiled with the expression that Agatha remembered from their first meeting at the gate of the monastery.

Delight. Disbelief in his luck. Joy.

And in exactly the same gesture as then, he threw back his head and ran his fingers from the corners of his mouth to his chin.

‘Agatha, do you think that for three hundred and eighty-six of my sexually mature years there are secrets of women's pleasures that are unknown to me?’

Agatha chased away the memory.

‘I'm not talking about the secrets of women's pleasures,’ she winced. ‘Your aristocrat's bag, full of information about ladies' charms, has nothing to do with it. It will not help,’ Agatha said condescendingly, ‘in the area where it is a question of a body subject to a higher authority.’

‘Divine?’

‘No. The power of reason.’

He laughed.

‘You are a heretic, Agatha. A century ago, you would have ended your life in the square, and respectable ladies dressed in caps like you would have thrown logs into your fire.’

Agatha snorted.

‘Go away from the topic?’

‘No way,’ Dracula assured. ‘Bet?’ asked after a second.

‘Terms?’

He burst out laughing again.

‘Agatha, I see you are seriously bored. I will not forgive myself for this. The terms...’ noticing her angry look, he continued. A thoughtful expression returned to his eyes. ‘The terms. Let's say this: you allow you to be touched – as I want and as much as I consider... sufficient to prove the _theorem,_ about which we argued. You are completely free in your reactions: growl and hiss, whisper, shower me with the last words. Moan – as loudly as you like. You can't scream.’

‘Moan?’ Agatha squinted. ‘Are you so arrogant?’

He chuckled.

‘I give you a chance.’

Agatha looked at him for a minute.

‘Fine,’ she said slowly. ‘Excellent, accepted. And here are my conditions: you do everything you can to make me scream with pleasure, and if you do not succeed... three times, you lose.’

Dracula raised an eyebrow.

‘Three times? Three times, Agatha?’

‘I give you a chance.’

‘I agree,’ his smile became so soft and sly that Agatha felt a desire to immediately cancel everything.’

‘What will you put?’

She thought about it. And really, what? How can a prisoner pay for a loss? Besides her own humiliation, of course, she thought with annoyance.

‘And you?’ Agatha always found it easier to attack than defense.

He pretended not to notice the pause.

‘I'll let you go,’ he said. ‘If you can’t scream even once, I’ll let you go. And I will fulfill any of your wishes. Of those that I can do, of course,’ he added mockingly.

Agatha frowned in disbelief.

‘Really?’ asked.

‘I give you my word.’

‘Okay.’ She rubbed her forehead absently. ‘What if...’

‘And if I win, then you will go with me to London. Openly, in full view, and voluntarily.’

‘Why do you need me in London?’

Dracula smiled.

‘Don't specify,’ Agatha said. ‘I won't need it. You won't win.’

‘We'll see,’ he is not threatening, she noticed. And doesn't scaring her. He just states.

She took a breath.

‘Well, good. Agree. You win – I will go with you. But that does not mean that I will stop trying to frustrate your... plans.’

‘In no case,’ the corners of Dracula's lips twitched slightly.

Agatha nodded.

‘Then... Since we agreed... on the rules... and on the terms...’ she hesitated. ‘When do you propose?..’

‘Now.’

Agatha stirred and adjusted the pillows again. Now they seemed too soft. She literally felt herself drowning in them.

‘Now?’ she asked politely. It won't do that way, she thought. She must look at him.

Dracula's eyes were completely blank.

‘Do you have any objections?’ he asked.

‘No, not the slightest.’ Tugging at the edge of the blanket, Agatha absentmindedly stroked it.

From the other side, a man's hand lay on the snow-white fabric.

Throwing back the covers in one motion, Dracula bent down, touching the long monk's skirt.

Agatha's gaze darted to his palm, which was lost in the blue folds. She did not feel it through the clothes, she only saw how it adheres to the fabric, completely, with the entire surface.

‘Tell me, have you done this before?’ now the voice of Dracula sounded very close.

‘What?’ Agatha asked, shuddering.

‘Have you ever done this before?’ repeated Dracula; his hand was still resting serenely on the crumpled skirt.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Interesting.’

‘I’m a nun,’ Agatha said dryly.

‘I remember,’ the hand came to life and grabbed the tight hem, lifting it. ‘But you had a life before the monastery?’ Dracula looked into her eyes. ‘Heart dramas, suitors?’

Agatha shook her head.

‘Me... I was the youngest daughter,’ she said. ‘The fourth after three brothers. And no dowry.’

‘There was only one way – to the monastery,’ grasping the hem with both hands, Dracula pulled up her skirt to her knees. ‘At thirteen?’

‘At fourteen.’

He nodded.

‘Understand. Well, what about you yourself?’

Agatha stared at him blankly.

‘What... me myself?’

‘Agatha,’ he smiled. ‘Haven't you ever tried to find out what it feels like?’ He leaned closer, lowering his voice. ‘Didn't you touch yourself, didn't indulge in forbidden games? Haven`t you ever... tasted yourself?’

Agatha turned away in dismay. She remembered her conversation with Jonathan Harker. How stubbornly she asked him about everything! How persistently she sought an answer, wanting to know if he had... a special interaction with the Count. How she convinced poor Jonathan that there was nothing terrible in his desires for Mina left in London and in his fervent dreams.

‘I've never done that,’ she said dully. ‘Even in a dream. Never. I lied to him.’

‘Lied to whom?’ asked Dracula.

‘Jonathan.’ She lowered her head and looked at her legs sticking out from under her skirt.

‘Did you introduce yourself to him as the queen of lecherous women?’

Her indignant gaze met with such frankly cheerful that Agatha could not find anything to answer.

‘Do you think it will give an allowance to you?’

‘An allowance?’ she blinked.

‘Everything unfamiliar scares at first,’ Dracula bowed his head. ‘You certainly won't be able to win an argument, but fear will allow you to hold out for a while and not give up victory in the first battle.’

Having said this, he ran his fingers of both hands over Agatha's thighs, spreading her legs – unceremoniously and quickly.

The first touch pretended a tickling – a quick, almost fleeting, and high – just beyond the edge of the trembling belly. Fingers went over the hollows of the triangle connecting the thighs, leisurely stroking one, the other, covered it entirely.

Pressing her back into the pillow, Agatha instinctively closed her legs – and groaned with pleasure that stitched her body. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dracula smiled – and moved his palm, pressing the base on...

‘Jesus,’ Agatha whispered.

Releasing his hand, Dracula once again ran it over Agatha's stomach from top to bottom, and, playing with the curls of hair in a secluded place, again – with his fingers – repeated the movement that shocked her so much.

‘It’s not forbidden to hiss, or growl, or emit lecherous moans,’ he reminded, leaning over to her ear. Gently stroking her with his thumb, with the middle finger he penetrated where it was humid and cramped, and immediately slipped out, leaving Agatha to shudder and breathe heavily.

‘You will come with me to London, Agatha,’ he said, lightly running over the open petals. ‘The bet was concluded without witnesses, and I, of course, will not claim the winnings in court,’ touching the above, he continued, accompanied by her sharp sigh. His fingers moved gently, and faster and faster. ‘If I am not mistaken, this is called ‘natural obligations’. Nobody will punish you for breaking them. But since the days of Ancient Rome, it has been known that arguing with natural obligations is like denying the very nature of things.’

He touched her again, softly and affectionately, and, trembling, Agatha with a powerless groan buried in his shoulder.

‘I win,’ after a couple of moments she breathed out barely audibly.

‘Oh dear,’ Dracula whispered. ‘This is just the first time.’

***

The dream turned into clear water. Crystal, a little prickly, light, and cool. Washing the boundaries of consciousness and completely filling it. Agatha tried to catch memories floating in the water, scattering to the sides and escaping like the wreckage of a raft or a sunken ship. Memories, thoughts, and feelings, about which, not just to the amazed Jonathan, she would not dare to tell the Mother Superior even.

‘And completely in vain,’ she opened her eyes and looked at Dracula looking at her. ‘You were talking in your sleep,’ he added, sinking to the edge of the bed. ‘Memories are worth sharing. Why else are they needed?’

‘Memories of defeat make the armies lose heart,’ Agatha muttered. She tilted her head, listening to herself. ‘What did you give do me after all... Henbane or mint decoction?’

‘Stop guessing,’ smiled Dracula. ‘You cannot solve this problem by enumerating options. Look for other ways.’

Agatha nodded.

‘I will certainly find it. You've been gone for a long time,’ she said, after a pause. And she immediately added in response to his questioning look: ‘In my position, it is difficult to keep track of time, but I tend to believe my feelings. And they say you haven't shown up for days.’

‘I thought you would want to rest,’ Dracula chuckled. ‘I'm glad I was wrong,’ he said, walking his hand over the blanket, and suddenly turning around, climbed onto her bed.

Sitting on the bed, he was directly opposite Agatha, and for a while silently looked at her.

‘You have changed,’ he said quietly. ‘You have changed so much since you came here.’

Agatha straightened and lifted her chin.

‘Winning the first round does not mean winning the game.’

‘Did I talk about what happened at our last meeting?’ Dracula was surprised.

‘Didn`t you?’

He turned around again and, stretching his legs forward, sat down next to Agatha, leaning back on the pillows.

‘Some victories only inflame... the imagination,’ he said, looking in front of him, smiling. ‘Aren`t they?’

‘How do I know?’ snapped Agatha. Turning away from Dracula, she stared at her hand on top of the blanket. Her knuckles twitched. ‘I can only...’

She didn’t finish. Dracula grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, placing her between his own legs and forcing her to lean back on him.

‘Okay, what do you want?’ whispered in her ear.

Agatha tried to push, but he just pressed closer.

‘I’m all at your disposal,’ Dracula purred, almost touching her auricle with his lips.

Agatha shuddered.

‘I can't... I can't say it,’ she said. ‘I...’

A quiet laugh made her grimace.

‘I didn't mean...’ Agatha muttered, realizing that she had betrayed herself.

‘You're curious,’ he laughed again. ‘And you love experiments too much to miss the opportunity to learn something new.’

‘Even if this is some kind of lewdness?’ Agatha snorted.

‘Why not?’ He ran his hand over her thigh and suddenly bent her leg and pulled it aside. ‘I suggested you set the conditions for the experiment,’ he said, penetrating under her skirt with his other hand, ‘so go ahead.’

His hand touched the hot skin, stroked the inner side of her thigh. Agatha groaned softly. In response, he wiggled his fingers, but instead of touching her where it was most desirable, he grabbed her bent leg and pulled gently, forcing her to open up more.

Leaning back, Agatha groaned loudly.

‘Where should I touch you?’ asked the persistent lips that tormented her ear.

Agatha shook her head.

‘I do not...’

‘Tell me,’ the rapid pulse in her temples seemed like a drumbeat, ‘tell me this out loud.’

Agatha shivered.

‘I want… I want… down,’ she whispered, feeling her cheeks flush. ‘Down... longer. And then...’

‘Then?’ touching her with a finger, he fulfills the request. Agatha breathes fast.

‘Then a little higher...’ another one joins the first finger, they caress her slowly and – oh, quite a bit – harder than last time. Agatha groans, gasping for breath. ‘Slightly higher...’ she asks ‘...higher. Above. Faster... And further... to the end.’

With the last words, choking on the exhale, she realizes that she won only because the pleasure was too strong.

***

When he appeared again, Agatha was awake.

‘You look tired,’ she said, watching him settle into the bed with the same calm casualness.

‘A lot of important things to do,’ Dracula replied absently.

Agatha ran her hand over the blanket.

‘I thought you’re not coming again,’ she said.

‘Why?’

She examined the folds of the graceful canopy.

‘I don`t know. To me...’

‘Was I with you unnecessarily...’

‘...modest,’ Agatha finished, smiling at the mocking sparkle in his eyes. ‘Of course not,’ she added in response to an unasked question. ‘I was just thinking... But no, it doesn't matter.’

Agatha turned away and fell silent.

They sat like that for a long time, and the further, the more awkward the silence became.

‘Agatha,’ Dracula said finally. Agatha shuddered and looked at him. ‘Agatha, I think I should...’

His face seemed tense and unusually determined.

‘Agatha, you...’

‘We haven't finished the game.’

She herself did not know what made her say this. She looked at Dracula, looking at her with a mixture of doubt and surprise. Without looking, felt the blanket, she threw it back – calmly and without challenge.

‘Okay,’ Dracula said and repeated as if waking up from a dream. ‘Okay.’

He sat a little longer in his place, and then, climbing onto the bed, moved closer to Agatha and reached for her skirt.

Agatha pulled back.

‘We haven't finished the game,’ she said again, looking Dracula in the eye. ‘And I want to reach the end.’ With that, she unbuttoned her collar and pulled the dress from her shoulders.

Dracula looked at her closely.

‘You’ll lose,’ he said quietly.

‘I know.’

...

The echo was long, rolling, and sweet.

‘If they could hear you, they would come and grab you as the main culprit of all problems and troublemaker.’

Agatha smiled.

‘Fortunately, they can't.’

Dracula raised an eyebrow.

‘Who can't?’

‘Oh, for God's sake,’ Agatha snorted.

They were silent for a second, looking at each other.

‘How long?..’ he asked carefully.

Agatha narrowed her eyes as she considered.

‘I think that... yes, perhaps. I think it was when you offered me... all this. The glass,’ seeing that he does not understand, she added. ‘The glass on... yes, on the table. I remembered that you don't drink wine.’

‘And you were not scared?’ He raised himself and ran his hand along her neck as if wanting to hear her pulse beating.

‘Of course, I was scared!’ Agatha responded indignantly. ‘You eat people!’

‘Actually, I don`t.’

Agatha looked incredulous.

‘And what, for a long time?’ she said.

‘Since we bet.’

She frowned.

‘But how are you then...’

‘Seagulls. Large fish. There was an albatross two days ago.’

She was silent for several minutes.

‘I was going to…’ she said slowly. ‘My winnings. I was going to ask you...’

‘I guessed.’

She tried to hold on. She did her best. But that was beyond her strength.

‘So, to London?’ she asked, finished laughing.

He smiled.

‘So, to London.’


End file.
